ice for the eagles

I keep remembering the horses
under the moon
I keep remembering feeding the horses
white oblongs of sugar
more like ice,
and they had heads like
bad heads that could bite and
did not.

the horses were more real than
my father
more real than God
and they could have stepped on my
feet but they didn’t
they could have done all kinds of horrors
but they didn’t.

I was almost 5
but I have not forgotten yet:
o my god they were strong and good
those red tongues slobbering
out of their souls.

Charles Bukowski
This poem appeared in the following books: